


“There’s a pelican beside you. Sir.”

by wintervioleteye (hawkguyed)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Community: avengerkink, Gen, Pelicans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-29
Updated: 2011-11-29
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:10:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawkguyed/pseuds/wintervioleteye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson deals with pelicans the same way he does with the Avengers. Clint deals with the pelican the same way he does with anything that bothers Phil.</p>
            </blockquote>





	“There’s a pelican beside you. Sir.”

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for [avengerkink](avengerkink.livejournal.com/) request: Coulson gets bitten by a pelican.

The training exercise is over, and while Clint doesn’t entirely get the point, it’s somewhat comfortable up here where he is, perched up on a tree watching the group of trainees trudge up to their taskmaster covered in paint - he’ll have to thank Coulson for paintball arrows later, they were so much fun to play with - for their debrief. The archer stifles a yawn, curling up on his branch and listening through his comm on what Phil has to say about their terrible lack of ability to spot a single sniper when a single, white bird suddenly flaps it’s wings and lands right beside Coulson.

Some of the trainees start, and Clint wonders why, after all, it’s only a pelican -

Wait.

A pelican.

Clint does a double take just as Coulson dismisses the trainees and speaks directly to him over the comm in his ear, facing the general direction of where he is. The older man doesn’t seems fazed by the fact that there’s a pelican sitting beside him and eyeing his pants leg like it’s concealing a fish, instead addressing the semi-hidden Clint - the archer swears that Coulson always manages to find him by fluke - voice coming over the earpiece as clear as if the man were standing right beside him.

“Were you actually going easy on them, Barton?”

“There’s a pelican beside you. Sir.”

The last part is added hastily, almost like an afterthought; the big bird with huge white wings is now taking a exploratory peck at Coulson’s pant leg, testing if the material were edible.

“You do realize you shouldn’t be going easy on them, don’t you?”

There’s a look of disapproval on Coulson’s face, as he stoically ignores the pelican nipping at his pant leg. By now there’s a hint of a grin on Clint’s face, and he wonders what Natasha will say, regretting that he doesn’t have a camera on him. Not that it could get a clear image at this distance.

“In my defense, I didn’t move. If they can’t spot me-”

He trails off, shrugging even though Coulson can’t see him. If they can’t spot him if he’s not bothering to hide, then they’re doomed against other snipers. Other, more ruthless snipers without the same sense of compassion and armed with bullets instead of paintballs. Paintball arrows, whatever. Semantics.

Beside Coulson, the pelican seems to have given up nipping at his pant leg, flapping up to the railing behind him and making a target out of his coat. Multiple targets, in fact, the white bird is pulling and tugging at the agent’s well-fitting suit and leaving creases all over. Clint catches the minuscule flash of irritation that he’d have missed if he weren’t looking for it, and grins even wider, trying - and failing - to stifle a snicker that rises in his throat. Thankfully, he’s far away, safely ensconced in his tree; if he’d been standing right next to Coulson, Clint is pretty sure he won’t be keeping a straight face.

Not that he’s managing that now, anyway.

“Do you need help with big white and fluffy over there?”

Coulson can see a pale glint in the distance, which he presumes to be Clint - the younger man will never let himself be spotted unless he wants to be - drawing back an arrow. The snicker that comes over the comm doesn’t help either, and wearily Coulson wonders if the archer is listening.

“Are you honestly listening, Barton?”

And in all honestly, Clint isn’t really fully paying attention to the smooth tone of his superior in his ear. Coulson will yell at him later, and then hand him a whole stack of paperwork - in triplicate probably - to do after they get back to SHIELD headquarters, but for now, the pelican is definitely distracting, having worked itself up into a indignant flap because Coulson is obviously ignoring it.

“Clint?”

Then there’s a gust of wind behind Coulson, the pelican’s large wings flapping as it reaches its long beak over the agent’s shoulder. Clint’s snicker is now louder, even though the archer’s arms never move an inch, the arrow steady in his grasp. The twitch of Coulson’s brow is a sure sign of irritation, even though he refuses to show it and Clint really wants to laugh at the expression that the older man has, it’s utterly adorable, how Coulson seems to be keeping calm and going on with the post-training session debrief.

The damn bird suddenly nips - bites, pecks, whatever it is birds do without teeth, Clint doesn’t know - at Coulson’s ear, and to the agent’s credit, he doesn’t react much, not outwardly at least. But the archer catches Coulson flinching, and the deepening of the man’s brow, which signals the move from irritation to actual annoyance and pain, and laughs as he lets the arrow fly.

It’s one of his usual arrows, not the paintball ones, and the projectile skims the tip of the offending creature’s wing, embedding itself in the railing behind. Clint had aimed to scare, not kill. He kinda likes pelicans anyways, if they’re not busy annoying Coulson, that is, and would rather not have to justify “use of one arrow on a pelican” on his reports. Said bird squawks loudly in shock, then half flails, half flaps away from the man in the suit who has flying sharp objects protecting him.

Clint grins smugly, shifting out of his perch, and sliding down the tree with a kind of fluid grace.

Coulson merely raises an eyebrow, rubs his ear, before reaching around and pulling out the arrow.

“You’re welcome, sir.”


End file.
